August 30, 2007

The last Tuesday in August, I was sitting at a sidewalk cafe in the neighborhood enjoying lunch with Ike and reading Coney Island of the Mind, I thought, for escape, when I read again “I Am Waiting.” Two days earlier I had written about the extended diagnostic testing period we have just entered and considered it likely that no one enters joyouslysuch a long period of waiting (see “Waiting II”). Ferlinghetti’s poem had been lying in wait. With it came the best sort of serious-funny surprise and a connection to so much beyond the two of us. read more

Recent Work

He kneels on the gray-black slate in front of the Jefferson Market, rendering blue eyes in pastels on the sidewalk, the magazine cover of Paul Newman under his left knee—only the eyes done after several hours. read more